


(Like I'm Living A) Teenage Dream

by indi_belle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2011 All-Star Game, Adorable Rookies are Adorable, Carolina Hurricanes, First Time, Jeff gets his man, M/M, NHL All-Star Weekend, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indi_belle/pseuds/indi_belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell me I’m not wrong,” Eric whispers, his voice soft. There's no more teasing, no more jokes. It's just them and the sweet, soft something blooming between their bodies. </p>
<p>Eric brushes the side of Jeff’s face with his left hand, pausing to cup his cheek, and his touch is so gentle, so careful, that it makes Jeff ache. </p>
<p>“Tell me you want this, Jeff."</p>
<p>--<br/>Jeff Skinner is the youngest player since Stevie Y to play in the NHL All-Star Game, but instead of basking in the glory of his accomplishment, he's distracted by Eric Staal, his captain and a man who can't seem to keep his tongue in his mouth during the All-Star Draft. To say Jeff is stupid in love with him would be an understatement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this video and Eric Staal’s very distracting, very pretty mouth.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQfoMLn5Ki0)
> 
> I took a few liberties with the logistics of accommodations and significant others. For the purpose of this fic, the 'Canes are staying with the rest of the ASG players at a Raleigh hotel instead of their own homes to be part of the whole ASG weekend "experience". 
> 
> This is a two-parter and my plan right now is to have the second chapter and epilogue up around 12:00 EDT Saturday night.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic. It's been sitting all neglected in my drafts folder for over a year and I thought it was time to share. :)
> 
> As always, this is a work of real person fiction, and no harm is intended.

Jeff Skinner is numb.

He never thought that this could be his life. He is the youngest rookie since Stevie Y to be invited to the game and now he's on stage at the All Star draft, in front of the home crowd, sitting alongside some of the best players in the world. And he’s wearing a Team Staal sweater, the creamy fabric stretched across his chest and shoulders a heavy reminder of who he belongs to.

_Team Staal._

He doesn’t belong to just any Staal. No, he’s Eric’s. For this weekend, at least, Jeff belongs to his beautiful blond captain. Eric and Green and Kesler could have chosen anyone from the crowd, but Eric chose him. It didn’t matter that Kesler looked completely indifferent and Green appeared half-comatose, because they didn’t matter. Only Eric mattered and _Eric wanted Jeff._  

Jeff bites down on his bottom lip and lets himself remember the way Eric looked right before he called Jeff’s name. Eric found him in the audience, eyes blazing with the kind of heat that made Jeff's cock thicken whether he was in a suit or weighed down with hockey gear. Their eyes met, gazes holding and melding into something sticky and wonderful and right, something that made Jeff’s whole body go tight with anticipation. Eric’s thick pink tongue had slipped out, stroking and slicking the corner of his mouth, looking like porn created just for Jeff. And then...and then he called Jeff’s name.

Jeff lets out a little moan as he thinks about how Eric's tongue had slipped between his perfect pink lips, thick and probing against the edge of his smile. He wants to believe that the slutty movement of his captain’s tongue was Eric’s way of beckoning to him, flirting with him a little bit before he was drafted, a come-on disguised by a nervous tic to make it look like everything was just fine.

He can't help the things he thinks about his captain. Jeff is, to be blunt, stupid over Eric Staal.

He knows he shouldn't feel the way he does about Eric. They're eight years apart; Eric's closer to 30 than he is to 20 and Jeff is just 18. Eric is his captain, the captain of the Carolina Hurricanes in the damn National Hockey League, for fuck's sake, and having feelings for Eric is not just _dumb_ , it's _dangerous_.

But it's also _love_.

Jeff loves, and is in love with, Eric Staal.

He doesn’t have to question it or dissect it; he knows what he feels is love, knows it right down to the marrow in his bones. It's greater than the heady, bittersweet sting of first love, and bigger than a foolish case of puppy love. It’s scary and exhilarating and beautiful and maybe the stupidest thing he’s ever done or ever will do, and he doesn’t think he could stop how he felt if he tried.

The sudden jab of a sharp elbow to the ribs yanks Jeff from his thoughts. He jerks and pads the wounded spot between his ribs with one hand. From the corner of his eye, he can see Carey Price, owner of the offending pointy elbow, looking at him with a curious look on his face.

"Okay?" asks Carey with a smile. Jeff blushes and nods, making Carey laugh and add, "It's a lot to take in, man. Try and enjoy it. You only get one first time."

The words ‘first time’ and all their connotations--especially the sexual ones--make Jeff glance up at Eric, who catches him looking. Eric grins and winks, like he likes Jeff looking at him, and Jeff's face absolutely  _burns_  with embarrassment until Eric looks away. 

"I plan to enjoy it," Jeff says, finally responding to Carey, even though he’s more interested in the smooth glide of Eric’s shoulders beneath his All Star sweater than he is in having a conversation. "It's gonna be great."

*

The draft drags on until both sets of chairs are occupied and the rosters are set. When it’s finally over, and Jeff is ready to crawl into his hotel bed and sleep for a hundred years, a familiar hand drops to rest on the slope of Jeff’s neck where it slopes into his shoulder. When a calloused thumb boldy strokes lazily behind Jeff's ear he doesn't pull away, he just digs his teeth into his lip instead and tries to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

Blunt nails scratch gently at the nape of his neck, sending chills up and down Jeff's spine, and the entire world narrows to a pinprick of awareness of just himself and the man behind him.

“Hey, Skinny,” Eric says, his voice warm and thick like honey against Jeff’s ear, “you look ready to drop.”

“I’m okay,” Jeff answers, tipping his face up and back to look at Eric, who just grins at him. Jeff's tired, having tapped out his last reserves of teenage enthusiasm an hour or two before, but he can keep going for a decade or two more as long as Eric keeps smiling at him like that. “Let’s party.”

“You’re not even old enough to party properly in this country,” Eric teases, tugging on a curl of Jeff’s hair. “Some of us are going back to the hotel to change before heading out. Wanna come?”

Jeff feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment as he thinks about just how much he wants to “come” with Eric. He swallows and tries to speak, but words are hard to form when Eric’s fingers are sliding subtly into his hair and swirling against his scalp.

“Y-yeah. P-please. I, uh, gotta be in before curfew, you know,” Jeff answers, taking a dig at his own age and inexperience.

Eric laughs and then his tongue is working the corner of his mouth again. Jeff wants to do something stupid like turn his head, wrap his lips around Eric’s tongue, and suck it into his mouth. The only thing that stops him from saying ‘fuck it’ and pulling Eric’s tongue into his mouth is the vague awareness that they're surrounded by hockey players, and hockey players gossip worse than teenaged girls and little old ladies put together.

“Get your things together, Skinny,” instructs Eric, his fingers twining in Jeff’s hair one final time before falling away, “and meet us out front in ten. We’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Yeah. Sounds good. Thank you.” Jeff grins. He can pretend for just a second that ‘we’ means ‘you and me’ not ‘a group of us’, and that he and Eric are going back to the hotel to hook up. That would never happen in any reality, let alone this one, but Jeff figures there’s no harm in pretending.

“Awesome. See you in a few.” Eric gives his ass a playful slap before stepping away and Jeff stares after the blond as he goes.

This little game between he and Eric-- the playful, flirtatious push-and-pull of their interactions--makes him think of one of those carnivorous plants he’s seen on TV, a Venus flytrap. Eric is the prickly, dangerous flytrap, waiting to strike, and Jeff is the helpless little fly that gets captured and waits to be consumed. Except, Jeff doesn’t want to escape. He wants to be consumed, get lost in Eric, touch him and taste him and know that he’s there, luxuriate in him until Jeff can feel Eric in every pore of his body and he doesn’t know where Eric ends and Jeff himself begins. If that makes him a helpless little fly, then so be it.

“Skins, you’re fucking pathetic,” someone says as a heavy arm drapes across Jeff’s shoulders. “Could you be any more desperately lame about having a crush on your captain?"

“Oh, fuck you,” Jeff half-laughs, half-moans. He swats at the arm weighing him down; after having Eric so close, having P.K. step up behind him is awkward and really unwanted. “You’re the enemy, _Pernell_. You shouldn't be cuddling me.”

P.K. laughs and moves so he’s standing next to Jeff instead of behind him. “Good point. I don’t want your captain and his brother to kick my ass for trespassing on Eric's territory.”

“You’re not trespassing,” Jeff says, and if P.K. can pick up the slight hint of sadness there, then he is way more observant than Jeff has ever given him credit for. “And I’m not Eric’s territory. That makes me sound like a piece of land waiting to be conquered or something.”

“Right, because you’re totally _not_ ready and waiting to be conquered, just like a piece of land.” P.K. snorts derisively. “Dude. Jeff. Skinny. Eric giving you that sweater tonight was pretty much the equivalent of peeing on your leg. Drafting your ass was the only time all night Staal didn’t look all pinched and constipated.”

Jeff is quiet for a minute. He wants it to be like that, the way P.K. says it was. He wants to ask P.K. exactly what other people think about him and Eric, wants to know if other people can see his feelings as easily as P.K. does, but instead he says, “That’s how his face always looks. And he wasn’t ‘pinched’, he was _focused_.”

Before P.K. can come up with a response, Jeff’s phone vibrates in his pocket and both boys turn their attention to the phone. Jeff works the cell out of his hip pocket and unlocks the screen with a single thumb-swipe.

There’s a text from Eric waiting for him. 

**Hurry up. Captain’s orders ;)**

“Aw, he used a little winky face, that’s so cute!” P.K. teases as he reads over Jeff’s shoulder. He makes a few kissy noises as Jeff tries to shield his phone with a cupped hand. "Send him back one of those sex face emojis!"

"Shut up, you're being a dick." Jeff rolls his eyes and protects the screen from P.K., his thumb keeping a steady rhythm against the screen while he thinks of what to say. After a second, he just shrugs and types what he wanted to say all along: **what if i don’t hurry?**

Eric’s reply comes in seconds and the words on the screen make Jeff shiver a little bit: **then as ur captain i will have to take matters into my own hands :D :D**

Jeff just stares down at the screen, mouth hanging open in shock, and scrambles to explain what Eric's doing. Is Eric actually flirting with him? He has to be. He has to be testing the waters, seeing if Jeff's interested. It can't be a joke, because Eric isn't cruel-hearted and even if Jeff's as obvious as PK claims he is, Eric still wouldn't lead Jeff on just to turn him down.

“He’s way too into smiley faces for an old guy,” P.K. says from where's looking over Jeff's shoulder at the screen that Jeff is no longer hiding with his hand. He nudges Jeff in the back, grabbing Jeff's attention. “I take it this means you're out, eh?”

“Yeah, I need to go. Eric’s my ride,” he squeaks, jamming his phone in his pocket before looking up at P.K., who’s laughing big and loud and vibrating against Jeff’s back.

"He's your ride, huh? Yeah, I think one of you's gonna get a ride tonight." Subban shoves him toward the door. “Make sure he gloves up!”

“I hate you!” Jeff yells back, and P.K.’s delighted laughter follows him down the hallway.

He takes off through the bowels of the building and ends up on the front walk. Cam, Marc and Eric are standing on a curb near the entrance, talking while a cab idles on the street in front of them, puffing gray-blue exhaust into the night.

Jeff pauses with one foot on the sidewalk. He wasn’t expecting Cam and Marc, and seeing them kind of sucks all of the excitement and momentum from him. Whatever he thought was happening with Eric--whatever _P.K._ thought was happening with Eric--isn’t happening, not since Marc and Cam are there, and staying with P.K. suddenly looks like a much better idea. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Cam says, his voice warm and relaxed. He doesn’t sound particularly playful or teasing; he just sounds nice and kind of amused. “Eric was about to send a search party.”

"I was not." Eric blushes and ducks his head as he slugs Cam in the arm. “Shut up, Wardo, and get in the cab before I trade you to Kaner's team.”

Cam grumbles a bit and gets in the cab with Marc close behind, leaving Eric alone on the sidewalk. When Jeff approaches, Eric puts an arm around him and ruffles his hair. Jeff leans unabashedly into the touch, pressing himself against Eric’s side, wanting more and asking for it with his body. It feels different than being cuddled up next to P.K.--it feels better and more real, somehow.

“Cold?” asks Eric, sliding his hand down from Jeff’s hair to rest on his side. His touch is like a hot coal, every finger an ember that stokes a fire low in Jeff’s belly that flickers to life right above his groin.

Jeff coughs nervously and nods as Eric’s hand moves up and down in an attempt to warm him. “A little.”

Eric hums and his hand continues to slide along the length of Jeff’s arm. While Cam and Marc get into the cab, Eric ducks down and brushes his cheek against Jeff’s temple, lips grazing Jeff's ear like he's about to tell a secret.

“I think I’ll have a little talk with Subban about being too friendly. He needs a reminder about whose team you’re on,” Eric murmurs, his hand never wavering in its track along Jeff's side. “You’re not on his team. You're mine. You should be with me.”

Eric’s words make Jeff forget how to breathe or swallow. He coughs and makes a sound, a low whimpering moan, at the way Eric’s tongue had wrapped around the word ‘mine’. He wants to be Eric's more than he’s ever wanted anything, more than he wanted to be drafted, more than he wanted to move up from Charlotte to join the ‘Canes. He wants to belong to Eric, but he's never, ever let himself think Eric wanted the same thing.

Jeff turns his head just slightly, wanting to say something, _anything_ to Eric in return, but then Marc sticks his head out the window and asks, “Would you two stop with the frottage and get in the fucking cab? Hank keeps texting me. He’s getting impatient.”

“Relax. You have at least 45 minutes until Lundqvist is done molding his hair into shape and kissing his reflection in the mirror," chirps Eric, moving from Jeff’s side to get onto the back bench seat.

Jeff approaches the car door and stops. Geometry was never his thing in school, but even he can tell that there isn’t enough room for the three hockey players currently cramped in the cab, let alone four. Cam is wedged into the front seat, folded like an accordion with an elbow, knee, and shoulder spilling across the center console, while Eric and Marc are squeezed into the back seat like sardines.

He looks at Eric, praying that the raw disappointment on his face isn’t too obvious, and starts, "P.K. can take me--"

Eric waves a large hand, cutting Jeff off, and gives him a look that clearly says 'stop being an idiot'. He drops his hand down to his thigh and Jeff watches as Eric lazily smooths out the wrinkles in the fabric with his long fingers. 

“C’mon, Skinny, get in,” Eric urges, his palm gliding up to run along the inseam of his pants. “It will be a tight squeeze, so you’re going to have to sit on my lap.”

All Jeff can do is make a choked little laughing noise. Reality has apparently detoured into Jeff Skinner Fantasy Land. “E-Eric, I’ll find another way back. It’s okay.”

Eric’s hand shoots out and winds around Jeff’s wrist, strong fingers holding him tight. A rough thumb rubs against Jeff’s pulse point once, twice, before the fingers give a quick tug and pulll Jeff off-balance. Jeff stumbles into the backseat and when Eric impatiently pulls the door shut, Jeff ends up spread half on Eric's lap and half across the armrest attached to the cab door.

Jeff holds still, desperately trying not to make things any more awkward. Eric apparently isn’t into having Jeff ride the armrest all the way back to the hotel, because he begins manhandling Jeff and moving him around until Jeff is sitting on his captain's lap with his captain's fingers pressing against his narrow hips to keep him steady.

 “You weren’t going to catch a ride home with P.K.,” Eric growls in his ear, “that wasn’t gonna happen.”

 “Right, no, that would be...bad team spirit. I’m totally here now, so I shouldn’t get out of the cab at the stoplight and wait for him or anything,” agrees Jeff.

He wiggles around a bit on Eric’s lap, perching himself on the very edge of Eric’s bony knees. He wants to lean back and rest against Eric, maybe have Eric wrap an arm around his waist, but he won’t do it. He won’t let Eric hold him, and he certainly won’t curl up against Eric’s chest like they’re together, even if that's what he really, really wants to do.

“Relax,” Eric commands in a whisper.

Jeff wants to relax, he really does, but he can't because he's sitting on Eric's lap with Cam and Marc next to them, shooting the shit like they're in someone's living room, while Jeff is dedicating a large portion of his brain space to not getting an awkward erection while perched on Eric's knees. Relaxation is not really one of Jeff's top priorities.

"Skins," Eric tries again, his voice a little sharper, a little closer to what he uses on the ice. The hands on his hips tighten and then release. "Breathe. We're cool here. Just be chill."

Jeff nods and relaxes just a little bit, loosening the tension in his shoulders and back. "Right. We're cool. Got it. Sorry. Will be chilling now."

"Good. That's good. It's just me, Skinny," Eric says, his breath soft and warm against Jeff 's ear. Eric’s hands settle back on Jeff’s hips, his calloused fingers teasing the inch of flesh exposed between the waistband of Jeff’s low-slung jeans and the hem of his now-untucked, rumpled dress shirt.

Jeff closes his eyes and tries to let himself just exist and enjoy the light touch of Eric’s fingers on the angles of his hips. It isn’t much of a touch at all, just the soft pressure of ten rough fingers on long-neglected skin, but it’s enough to raise a fire on Jeff’s flesh, and tendrils of that sweet, lazy heat are enough to pull a satisfied little sound from the hollow of Jeff’s throat.

“Skins--” Eric begins, only to be cut off when the cab driver brakes too hard at a red light.

The car skids to a ragged stop and Jeff, already on the edge of Eric's lap and not wearing anything resembling a seatbelt, pitches forward and almost face-plants into Cam’s headrest, before Eric locks a strong arm around his waist and hauls him back. Jeff collides with Eric’s chest and an instant later the rest of him follows, his ass sliding backward across Eric’s thick, wide lap only to land against the fly of Eric’s pants.

Something presses against Jeff’s ass and that something...is Eric’s dick. Eric is hard because Jeff’s sitting sprawled on his lap with his thick hockey ass digging into Eric’s zipper, and the only thing Jeff can do is let out a short, garbled squeak. When the arm around his waist tightens, pressing him down more firmly against the bulge straining in Eric's dress pants, Jeff whines. 

“You’re teasing me with your little noises,” Eric whispers against Jeff’s cheek.

Jeff wants to laugh. Eric can’t be serious. If anyone is teasing, it’s Eric, and Jeff tells him so in a raspy voice that sounds unfamiliar to Jeff’s own ears.

Laughing, Eric gently moves his hand from Jeff’s hip to his thigh, settling in the hot crease of Jeff’s groin.

“Oh fuck, that’s n-not f-fair,” Jeff whispers. His erection is throbbing in his boxers, aching for Eric’s touch. If Eric would move his hand just a bit, he could guide his palm along Jeff’s dick and bring a little bit of sweet relief.

“This isn’t teasing,” Eric says as the cab rolls to a stop outside the hotel.“This is...more of a preview of things to come."

Jeff feels his brain practically grind to a halt and smack into his skull. All of this, everything that’s happened in the cab, it’s a preview. A preview of what, Jeff isn’t sure, but as long as it involves Eric’s erection pressed up against him, he is more than willing to play along until the main attraction.

Cam and Marc spill out of the cab and onto the sidewalk right away, but Eric doesn’t push Jeff off of his lap right away, not even after Marc pays the driver. It’s weird for them to just sit in the backseat with Jeff perched on Eric’s lap like he’s visiting Santa Claus at the mall, but neither of them move.

When the driver drums his fingers impatiently on the meter, Jeff sighs and reaches for the door handle. He opens the door but Eric squeezes the inside of his thigh and stops him from getting out, even as Cam and Marc shoot amused glances at them through the window.

“You should come upstairs with me,” Eric murmurs, catching the curve of Jeff’s ear with his bottom lip in a fleeting fragment of a kiss.

“Okay,” Jeff answers softly. Going upstairs with Eric is a bad idea and will probably end in heartbreak, but Jeff doesn't care. If this is his only chance to be with Eric, then Jeff's going to take that chance and embrace it with open fucking arms. “Yeah. I’d like that, Eric.”

Eric makes a sound, almost like a little sigh of relief. “Okay. Good. Now, c'mon, we need to get out of here before the guy starts running the meter again."

Eric gives him a little push and Jeff gets out of the cab. When he's on his feet again, Jeff yanks at the front of his sweater, trying to pull it down to cover his half-hard cock and save himself a little ribbing from Marc and Cam, only to find that Marc and Cam are both  _very_ interested in their phones.

“Do I need to give you anything for the cab, Marc?” he asks. His voice is unsteady, and shit, he’s going to be teased to hell and back for all of this in the morning.

Marc snorts and looks Jeff up and down, his thin lips screwing into a smirk when he sees Jeff's half-concealed erection. “No, I think you’re gonna be giving enough to the Staal family tonight as it is.”

Cam laughs, loud and obnoxious, and Jeff wants to die. He wants to melt into the sidewalk and disappear.

“It—it’s not like that,” Jeff protests over Cam’s laughter, “Eric isn’t…he wouldn’t…we’re not…oh, fuck it, like you’d believe me anyway.”

“You’re not like that yet,” Cam teases, clapping a hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “Make sure Staalsy gloves it before he loves it, Jeff.  You’re too young and pretty to be a dad.”

“I hate you so much right now, Cam Ward,” hisses Jeff, ducking out from under Cam’s hand and shoving him away with a gloveless facewash.

Cam grins and bats Jeff’s hand away like it’s nothing. “I know you do, and it’s so cute.” He lowers his voice and stage whispers, “Lucky for you, Eric’s into cute.”

“All right, asshole, that's enough,” Eric says, amusement seeping into his voice. He steps up behind Jeff and reaches around him to cuff Cam on the side of the head.

Jeff looks away from Cam, who’s adequately distracted by talking a bit of shit to Eric, and watches in horror as Marc reaches into his shirt pocket, withdraws a foil square, and throws it at him.

“Cam’s right. Have Eric wrap it before he taps it, Jeff. You don’t wanna lose that girly figure my big brother likes so much," teases Marc as the condom arcs through the night air.

Jeff just gawks at him and uses his hockey reflexes to grab the condom before it can land on the sidewalk. Before he can even make a reply—everything he thinks of saying, he would never say to one of Eric's brothers because he values his continued existence on earth—Eric steps up behind him as casual as can be and plucks the condom from Jeff’s hand.

“Isn’t this same condom you carried in high school, Marc?” Eric teases, turning the condom wrapper over in his hand before flinging it back at Marc. “Yeahhh. Looks like this one’s gone bad. Jeff and I will just have to find some other way to keep ourselves occupied tonight.”

Jeff stares up at Eric, drinking in his slick smile and the way his hair burns golden in the streetlights. Eric dips his head down and meets Jeff’s eyes, anchoring Jeff in place with the thick emotion twisting in his dark, glassy eyes. Jeff knows that look; he recognizes that look from when Jeff gave him an All Star Sweater. What Jeff sees in Eric’s eyes is pride and need and desire and the weight of it all slams into him like a puck to the chest.

Eric Staal wants him.

That sudden knowledge, that _revelation_ , shocks Jeff down to his bones.

Somehow, for some reason, the gold-medal owning, Stanley Cup-winning hockey player Eric Staal wants to touch Jeff, see him naked, make him come. He’s never let himself consider for even a second what it would be like if Eric wanted him back, but maybe he should have. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t be so stunned by the way Eric’s looking at him, smouldering down at him like Jeff's something Eric wants, something he needs the way he needs air.

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees, his eyes never leaving Eric’s face. “We’ll have to find something else. I'm sure, ah, something will come up."

"Oh, I bet it will," Cam hoots. He whacks both of them in some twisted way of giving his blessing and says congenially, “Get a fucking room already. Nobody wants to see this shit.”

“I’m trying, but some people just can’t stop running their mouths. Get lost, assholes,” Eric shoots back, shoving Cam away. He looks at Jeff, then at Cam and Marc, and finally points at the hotel entrance. “Hotel’s that way, boys.”

The pair of hockey players yell insults as they go, shouting until the doors enclose them in the hotel lobby, and then Jeff and Eric are alone. Jeff has no idea what’s supposed to happen next, so he does what he always does when he’s out on the ice and doesn’t know what the next play is—he turns to his captain.

Eric catches Jeff’s gaze and smiles. The smile is something soft and sweet, a beautiful thing that Jeff dares to think is just for him.

“Sorry about that, Skins,” says Eric. “Cam’s a dick and I should have tried harder to kill Marc as a kid, I guess.”

“It’s okay, Eric,” Jeff says, smiling and looking up at Eric through his eyelashes.

It really is okay. He’s embarrassed, but no harm’s been done. He’s used to the ribbing, the teasing, the all-out verbal warfare that comes with being a hockey player, and Jeff knows that in a strange way, Marc and Cam were welcoming Jeff into the fold, giving Eric their approval for whatever the night still holds.

“So. You don’t have anything planned for tonight, right?” Eric asks.

Jeff shakes his head. “Nothing except for, you know, going upstairs with you.” He blushes and steps a little closer to Eric. “‘Cause I wanna, if you wanna.”

“Yeah. Let’s do that. Let’s go upstairs,” Eric says. He dips his head down and Jeff rises up on his toes, almost asking for a kiss. Instead of kissing him, Eric bumps their noses and foreheads together. “Hands to yourself in the lobby, rookie. Gotta be on your best behavior, since we're representing our city and everything."

“I should say the same thing to you, captain,” Jeff replies. Their faces are so close now that he’s practically writing his words on Eric’s bottom lip with his tongue. “You were the one who couldn’t keep your hands off of me in the cab.”

Eric snorts. “Yeah, well, I’m the captain; I don’t have to lead by example. Be cool or I’ll drop you off with Cam and Marc, and they won’t do with you any of the things I’m thinking of.”

Jeff just gawks at him, mouth a little bit agape, and watches Eric make a line for the door. He jogs to catch up and when he passes into the front foyer, Eric settles his hand against the small of his back, guiding Jeff toward the elevator without a word. Eric's hand keeps Jeff's movements steady, even though on the inside he's lit up like a live wire has replaced his heart and he’s working off of pure, mad electricity.

They finally reach the elevator bay and Jeff's hand shakes as he slaps the “up” button. He should probably be playing it cool, looking calm and stoic like Eric, but he can’t manage it. They’ve been building toward this all night, or all season, or maybe even since the first time they met, and the anticipation has Jeff about to burst apart at the seams like a virgin on prom night.

The elevator arrives and the doors open. Eric guides Jeff inside, pressing the "12" button as the doors close. Before Jeff can even look at their reflections in the mirrored gold doors, Eric hooks his fingers in the hem of Jeff’s All Star sweater and presses Jeff against the far wall. Jeff swallows hard and tips his face up, offering himself to his captain.

“You’re coming to my room, but I want you to come my bed, too.” Eric lifts a thumb and presses it to the side of Jeff’s face, outlining a dimple.

“To your bed?” Jeff echoes in disbelief. Joining Eric in his room was one thing, a familiar thing Jeff knew well from the road, but Eric's bed? That was brand new and enough to make Jeff stumble over his words. “W-why? Are you...are sure, Eric?”

Eric just grins and presses his thumb against Jeff's cheek. “Yes, my bed. I want you there. And yes, I’m sure.” He steps away, looking cool and collected like they weren’t just seconds from kissing, and pats Jeff’s cell phone through his hip pocket. “Text your roommate, tell him he's got the place to himself tonight."

The elevator stops at Eric’s floor and Jeff stumbles out into the hall, feeling a little bit punch-drunk with adrenaline. He leans against the first wall he finds and texts his roommate as quickly as he can manage with shaking fingers. As soon as Jeff slides his phone back into his pocket, Eric grabs his fingers and tugs Jeff down the corridor.

“The hallway is so long,” Jeff babbles as Eric pulls him along, fingers still entwined, “they should fire the hotel designer because this is dumb. It has to be a mile long.”

Eric laughs, looking so attractive as he does it that Jeff kind of hates him for it, and stops in front of the last door on the left. He unlocks the door and pulls Jeff into the room, then practically closes the door on Jeff as soon as he’s inside. Their bodies are flush and the entryway feels tight, like it’s forcing them against each other until they meld into one person.

“Tell me I’m not wrong,” Eric whispers, his voice soft. There's no more teasing, no more jokes. It's just them and the sweet, soft something blooming between their bodies. Eric brushes the side of Jeff’s face with his left hand, pausing to cup his cheek, and his touch is so gentle, so careful, that it makes Jeff ache. “Tell me you want this."

"I want this," Jeff breathes. His heart is so high and heavy in his throat that he can barely speak around it. He presses his lips to the side of Eric's hand, needing Eric to know he’s not the only one who’s wanting. "You're so stupid, Eric, if you think that I don’t. I feel like I’ve been so obvious about wanting you. I want you, want this, so much. I just...didn't think you would ever want me back."

Eric sighs and his mouth hitches up into a tiny smile. He presses their foreheads together and Jeff leans in so closely that he can taste a hint of sweet mint on Eric’s lips and tongue.

"And you just called me stupid. Of course I want you, Jeff.” Eric makes a little noise, like his words are hurting him, and Jeff presses his hand to Eric’s heart. Eric gives him a watery little smile and continues.  

"I can’t believe you thought that I’d never want you back. Really, Skins? God, you have no idea, no idea at all how long I’ve wanted you, or how much. I like everything about you...the way you skate, the way you smile, the way you laugh. I’d be crazy not to want all of that. Fuck, the only thing I’ve wanted for months is to get you naked and feel you underneath me, and...and I’m your _captain_. You’re eighteen, you're my rookie, my responsibility--I should take my hands off of you and kick you out of here, but I can’t. I’d rather rip the fucking C off of my chest than ask you to leave, Jeff.”

"I wouldn’t go, Eric. I won't. I _can't_." Jeff shakes his head and curls his fingers against Eric's chest. “Everything you said you like about me is everything I like about you, and more. You’re my captain, but you’re more than that. I think that we could maybe...be more than captains and rookies and hockey, like we could be bigger than all of that. Unless...unless you really think it's better if I go, and then--"

"Jeff, stop." Eric presses his thumb against Jeff's lips, silencing him. "The only thing I care about tonight is getting what I refuse to give up, what I have to have before I lose my fucking mind--you. All I want is you, Jeff. Can I have you?"

*

_To Be Continued in Chapter No. 2..._


	2. In Which Jeff Gets His Man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff gets his man (and an epilogue!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for a long sex scene. 
> 
> If you read and enjoyed this fic, thank you so much. I appreciate it. I'm trying to get back on the horse after a long absence from fic of any kind, so...thanks.

Jeff nods. He doesn't know how to spell it out, how to tell Eric that Eric can have him for as long as he wants, so he twists his shaking hand in the fabric of Eric's sweater, launches up, and presses a kiss to Eric's lips.

Eric sucks in a breath, perhaps a gasp, and returns Jeff's kiss. Eric's mouth is warm and soft and his arms are strong when they surround Jeff and hold him tight. Jeff slips his tongue boldly into Eric's mouth, just skimming Eric's bottom lip with his taste buds, and then...then they're really kissing. Their mouths are wet and hungry, colliding roughly like a hockey player into the boards, and Eric's gentle hands quickly turn greedy.

Large hands find Jeff's ass and Jeff bucks up, seeking the sweet friction he knows he'll find in the grind of their bodies. He isn't as experienced as some, but he knows what to do, and when he rubs against the thick line of Eric's erection, it makes Eric shudder and break the kiss.

"Hmm, no, come back," Jeff murmurs, leaning in and restarting the kiss. He needs more of Eric's mouth because he hasn't had _nearly_ enough as payment for all the teasing he's had to endure tonight. He lines their bodies up, slotting in against Eric like he was made to fit there--and maybe he was, because this feels so right--and grinds against Eric, feeling every bit the teenager he is.

"Fuck. Jeff. Fuck. Stop, you gotta..." Eric's hands fall away from Jeff's ass and lock instead on his hips to stop the rhythmic grind of his body. "Not like this, up against the door."

Jeff nods. He will go _anywhere_ as long as Eric leads him there. "Okay. Okay, where?"

Eric laughs and guides Jeff away from the door, walking backward and drawing Jeff into the bedroom. "In here." He tilts his head back, exposing the line of his throat. "The bed."

"Right. Duh. The bed. Okay," Jeff says. He looks at Eric, then at the bed, and nods. He can do this. It's just a bed. Eric's bed. That Eric's inviting him to share with him. No big deal. "I'll just...get undressed and get on the bed."

Jeff's hands shake just a little bit as he undresses. He’s spent a disproportionate part of his life naked around other guys, including Eric, but this is different. He isn’t taking off hockey gear like it’s just another day at the office. He’s taking off his clothing because Eric asked him to, and that makes his fingers shake a little bit. He leaves on his boxer-briefs and instead reaches for the hem of his All Star sweater, only to have Eric latch onto his wrist before he can pull the heavy garment up and over his head. 

“Not the sweater,” Eric says, his voice raspy and thick with want. He squeezes Jeff’s wrist and then lets it go.  “Not yet. I want to see you underneath me with it on."

Well, then.

“The sweater says on,” Jeff declares, running a hand over the sweater in question like he's trying to smooth out some wrinkles.

Eric beams at him, with a smile so bright it probably rivals the sun, and Jeff flops backward onto the mattress, slain. He props himself up against a nest of puffy pillows and watches as Eric strips down to a pair of obscenely short, indecently tight shorts. Jeff tries to get his fill, knowing he can't ogle Eric this way in the 'Canes dressing room, only to have his show interrupted when Eric crawls onto the bed and stretches out next to him.

"Hi," Jeff says, feeling strangely shy as he looks over at Eric.

"Hi, Skinny." Eric rubs behind his left ear, something he only does when he's nervous, and gives Jeff a crooked little smile. "So, have you done this before? With a guy, or with...anyone?"

Jeff nods. He's not surprised Eric would ask that; he knows how young he is, and how young he looks, and he feels a little bit disappointed to tell Eric he's not as innocent as he might look. In a strange way, telling Eric he isn't a virgin makes him wish he had waited, skipped all the bad sex and been Eric's rookie in this way, too. “Yeah. I’ve had sex. There was a girl back home and then a few times with a guy--another hockey player--before I came to Raleigh. I'm sorry."

Eric slips his fingers beneath Jeff's chin and forces Jeff to look at him. "Hey, no, don't apologize for that, Jeff. There are a lot of things left to experience, lots of things I can show you. Whatever you want. Just show me where you want to start."

Jeff bites down on his bottom lip and takes Eric's hand, covering Eric's calloused fingers with his own slightly smaller fingers. He first presses Eric’s hand against his heart and then rests the palm against the bulge of Jeff’s own thick, heavy cock. "Start here."

"Jeff." Eric shudders and closes his hand around Jeff's length, holding it instead of stroking, as though he's restraining himself from doing more. "God, Jeff, you make me crazy. I can't...think straight. The things I want to do to you…”

"Do them," Jeff replies, pushing himself into Eric’s large hand. His body feels tight, tense and lit up; his feels electrified and every time Eric touches him, sparks skitter out across his skin to make him burn even brighter. "Do all those things and then think of some more. I want anything. Everything.”

Eric murmurs something under his breath, the words lost in the ether, and moves on top of Jeff, pinning him to the mattress. He props himself up on his elbows and looks down at Jeff and when their eyes meet, something like lightning races down Jeff’s spine.

"This was all I wanted," Eric says, touching the crest on Jeff’s sweater before sliding a hand beneath it. "I wanted you in my sweater. I wanted everyone to see you and to know what I already knew, what I've known since the first time we met: that you're  _my rookie_. You're mine, Jeff."

“Yours,” Jeff agrees, his throat tight with a hundred thousand feelings he can’t name and his chest heavy with just how much he loves the older man. “Yours, Eric.”

Eric's fingers curl against Jeff’s chest, almost like he needs something to hold onto in that moment, and then his hand fans out across Jeff’s chest, pausing against Jeff’s thundering heart. "As much as I like my sweater on you...it needs to go. I need to see you. All of you."

That sentiment is something that Jeff can absolutely support and he moves quickly to take the sweater off, tugging it halfway over his chest before Eric swoops in and pulls it up and over his head. The horrible, oppressive garment is on the ground maybe a second before Jeff wiggles out of his boxer-briefs, groaning with relief when he finally kicks the damn things off the end of the bed. He looks over at Eric, only to find that Eric's still wearing his pornographic-looking boxer briefs.

“Why do you still have these on?” Jeff asks, more than ready to feel Eric's naked skin against his body. Unceremoniously, Jeff sticks his hand down the back of Eric's tight shorts, knuckles tenting the dark fabric, and grabs a handful of his captain's ass. “Now I’m getting somewhere.”

“Eager,” Eric laughs and Jeff squeezes harder, really grabbing at Eric’s backside, before he yanks the captain’s underwear down impatiently and rewards Eric with a bruising smack against firm ass cheeks.  
  
“That’s it, Skinny. I knew I drafted you for a reason. You’re feisty,” Eric says, laughing against Jeff’s mouth. He steals a kiss from Jeff’s parted lips and then reaches over him to grab a condom and packet of lube from the bedside table. 

Jeff watches in disbelief as Eric swiftly rolls a condom down onto his cock. It looks like something about of a porno, not like something out of real life. But it is real, and it’s the hottest thing Jeff’s ever seen.

“You’re so hot,” he says dumbly.  "The fact that you're so hard because of me is crazy. I almost can't believe it's real. Are you sure this is real? ‘Cause I’ve had dreams like this before, and...yeah.”

"Yeah? So, what usually happens right about now?” 

Jeff reaches out and wraps his hand around Eric’s thick, slick length. He can be bold and brave when he wants to be, when he has reason for it, and wrapping his hand around Eric Staal's dick is an excellent reason for boldness and bravery. The sheathed cock in his hand throbs and swells a bit in Jeff's fist and Jeff can’t fight a smile as he says, “This.”

“This...is good. Go ahead, I like this dream so far,” says Eric. 

Jeff moves his hand a few times, just watching Eric’s cock slide in and out of his hold, and then he sets to work. On the first downstroke, Eric hisses through his teeth; with the first twist of Jeff's wrist, Eric's moaning and bucking up, shallowly thrusting into the circle of Jeff's hand. Jeff finds a pattern--a slow, sensual stroke down Eric's length, a teasing graze of his fingernails across Eric's balls, a twist of his fingers just beneath the head, a push of Jeff's thumb into Eric's weeping slit--that makes Eric jerk and jolt on the bed.

“God, Jeff! Just...like that,” Eric rasps, clawing at the sheets and Jeff's side. His nails are digging pink furrows across Jeff's ribs, marking a jagged claim of ownership on Jeff's skin.

“You like what I’m doing?” Jeff asks, feeling a blush heat his cheeks.

“Oh, yeah.” Eric presses his mouth against Jeff’s ear and slips his tongue along the soft shell, which makes Jeff shiver and lose his rhythm. “It’s so good, _you’re_ so good, but...I need to get my hands on you. I need to open you up, Jeff, work my fingers in you and get you ready for me. ”

“Yes, fuck yes,” says Jeff, his body going hot and then cold with want. He’s thought about Eric’s fingers inside him a hundred thousand times, and while he enjoys having Eric in his hand, the possibility of having Eric's fingers inside him makes him _ache._ He slips down the bed a bit and spreads his legs, inviting Eric to touch him. 

“Do you have any idea what you look like right now, with your legs open for me like that?” Eric asks. He licks his lips, like what he sees is delicious and he can’t wait to devour it.

“Is it a good view?” Jeff challenges, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s a great view.” Eric laughs, deep and rough, and makes quick work of slicking his fingers with the lube that’s hidden somewhere in the sheets. He bends down, slick fingers bumping Jeff’s inner thighs, and gives Jeff the softest, swiftest of kisses. “Unreal. You’re fucking unbelievable.”

Eric pushes his middle finger forward and slowly, slowly slides it inside. He takes his time, gently opening Jeff up with shallow thrusts and twists until Jeff can take him easily. It feels nice to have a part of Eric inside of him, but Jeff welcomes the stinging press of a second finger when it comes. By the time he’s loose enough to take a third long, skilled finger, Jeff’s making little “ _ah-ah-ah_ ” noises against the side of Eric’s face and clawing at the sheets

“You ready?” Eric asks, his fingers suddenly going still.

Jeff nods and clenches around Eric’s fingers. He’s so very, very ready. He’s been ready for a long time, as though everything he’s done so far in Carolina has been a step on the path to this moment.

Eric's fingers withdraw smoothly, gently, and are replaced seconds later by the dull pressure of Eric’s cock as it presses against him. Jeff lets a soft noise escape him; it isn’t quite a moan, but it’s not a sigh, it’s just a sound that’s thick and wanting.

“Look at me,” murmurs Eric, tracing the side of Jeff's face with one hand.

Jeff looks up at his captain and his chest tightens. He loves Eric so much in this moment that his feelings are shaking him apart and making him tremble beneath Eric’s long, lean body. When Eric pushes into him for the first time, all Jeff can do is whisper Eric’s name, the word wet and broken as it falls from his lips.

“I know, Jeff. I’m right here, Skinny. Right here, and I’m gonna give you what you need,” Eric replies. He gives one shallow thrust, and then another, and when he bottoms out, it tears a gasp from the hollow of Jeff’s throat. Eric is so deep, deeper than anyone’s ever been, and every single thrust lights Jeff up like a Christmas tree.

Jeff can feel tears slipping from his eyes and painting his cheeks, but he can’t help it--having Eric inside him, stretching him wide and filling him up, is unreal. Eric is hot and thick and strong inside him, settling into place like the final piece of a puzzle. They find a rhythm easily, working together just like they do on the ice to build something beautiful and special and _theirs_.

"Fuck, Jeff," Eric pants above him. He sounds wrung out; he's flushed bright red and when a pearl of sweat collects on his jaw, Jeff pops up from the bed to catch it with the tip of his tongue. Eric tastes salty and sweet, like the best kind of candy, and Jeff decides to lick like a kitten down Eric's throat.

"Oh God, Jeff, you...you look like porn." One of Eric's big hands drops down to touch where they're joined, like he has to touch their bodies to make sure it's real. "Like p-porn made just for me. And I'm trying to... start easy...but it's so hard... I'm so hard, sweetheart."

"Don't go easy," he breathes against Eric's hammering pulse. He nips at Eric’s Adam’s apple, wanting to leave his mark so that everyone can see that Eric Staal has been claimed. "I don’t want easy. You said you’d fuck me...so _fuck me_ , Eric.”

Eric some sort of hybrid between a growl and a shout low in his throat and drives deep and slow into Jeff's body. Jeff gasps and grabs the hand placed next to his head. He holds onto the hand as Eric pushes into him twice, setting a pattern of _slow-fast-fast_  that punches choked gasps of pleasure from Jeff's lips. 

Eric's hands and mouth feel like they're  _everywhere_ as they move together on a nest of tangled sheets. In one moment, Eric's lips are one sensitive nipple; in the next, his strong hand is working along Jeff's aching cock. Jeff is swollen with sensation, and that should be enough, but he can't stop himself from bucking against Eric and whining high in his throat for even more, for everything will give him and then some.

"Is this what you want?" asks Eric. His mouth is swollen and red like cinnamon candy, and Jeff can't make himself look away. "This what you need?" 

Jeff _does_ need it. Pleasure is sparking off of his body, sensation snapping all over him like the tail of an electric eel, but he isn't satisfied. He won’t be satisfied until he’s slick with come and spent in Eric’s stupidly strong arms.

"Need more, Eric," he pleads, rubbing his erection against the grooves of Eric's abdomen. "More. Make me come. Please, captain."

Eric bends down, almost folding Jeff in half, and gives him a wet open-mouthed kiss that actually makes Jeff's eyes roll back in his head. It feels like Eric's trying to devour him so Jeff just does the same, creating a kiss that's all lips and tongue and choked, broken words.

Tendrils of pleasure start unwinding in Jeff's belly like thread from a spool. Eric's hands and hips are working in tandem, hand and cock stroking Jeff and pulling him closer and closer to completion. He's clenching and loosening around Eric's thick cock as his balls start drawing up tight to his body. He's so close, _so close_ , to coming with Eric inside him.

"So good, sweetheart," Eric rumbles against Jeff's cheek. "You feel so good, tight and warm around me. You look so beautiful with me inside you and you're taking me so well, Jeff. Like a goddamn wet dream. You wanna come for me?"

"Mmhmm," Jeff mewls. He's strung so tight with pleasure that he can't even open his eyes, let alone form words with vowels in them. 

"Yeah, that's it, babe." There's a pause, and then the brush of beestung lips against Jeff's ear. "Come for me, Jeff. Come all over your captain."

It's all Jeff needs to erupt with pleasure. His entire existence is swallowed up in a storm of white and purple starbursts as he shoots off in Eric's big, capable hand. He moans something he doesn't hear, a jumble that feels like gibberish against his tongue and teeth, and rocks with aftershocks until Eric finally pulls his hand away.

When he opens his eyes, Eric's face is above him, bobbing and nodding as he thrusts jackrabbit-quick to find his own elusive orgasm. His mouth is open, wet, and swollen and his skin is wet with sweat, and he looks incredible. Their gazes meet and meld and Jeff doesn’t look away even though everything he feels for Eric is right there, his heart just as vulnerable and naked as his body.

As they stare at one another, Eric's thrusts become uneven and quick. Although he's so overstimulated from his orgasm that his eyes water, Jeff holds on to Eric with shaking hands and clenches down around him, wanting to pull every bit of pleasure out of Eric that he can.

Eric dips his head down and drops a bombshell on Jeff's lips seconds before he comes.

"I-I love you, too."

And then he comes, his hips jerking before his whole body goes rigid, all while Jeff stares up at him in complete shock.

Eric loves him.

_Eric. Loves. Him._

Eric loves him _too_.

Which means... which means that the words that Jeff mumbled and moaned brokenly as he came weren’t such a jumbled, unintelligible mess after all. He told Eric he loved him. While he might have spent a portion of the night biting his tongue to keep from saying those three little words, especially when Eric held him and touched him like he was something special, but he never meant to say it out loud.

"I...said that?" he croaks, sounding like he swallowed a cheese grater. "T-to you? Recently?"

Eric’s lips pull up into a tiny smile. "Yeah. Fairly recently. About three minutes ago. Did you not...mean it?"

Of course Jeff meant it. He’s not sure he’s ever meant anything more. But that doesn’t mean he planned on saying it to Eric as he came; up until three or so minutes ago, Jeff really didn’t plan on saying it at all, just in case Eric didn’t feel the same way.

"I meant it. Of course I meant it. But you weren't supposed to know." Jeff looks down and away, focusing on the foot of the bed where the sheets have pulled up and the mattress is exposed.

“Hey. Hey, Jeff.” Eric pulls Jeff’s head by the chin and forces Jeff to look at him. He actually looks disappointed in Jeff, giving Jeff a look similar to the one he gets when he takes a dumb penalty during a game. “I wasn’t supposed to know? You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

“Not really, no.” Jeff lets out a long, slow breath. It all sounds so ridiculous now, but he doesn’t know how to explain to Eric how scared he was that he felt more for Eric than Eric felt for him, or worse, that his love for Eric was completely unrequited.  “I...I... just wasn’t going to mention it tonight, or, um, ever...just in case you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t want you to think I expected something from you after tonight. I didn’t wanna make things weird.”

Eric just lifts his lips softly, the expression a shadow of his normal beautiful smile, and shakes his head. He rests a big, warm hand on Jeff’s cheek, his thumb tracing Jeff’s cheekbone, before he leans down to gift Jeff’s mouth with a soft kiss.

“I understand, Skinny,” says Eric. Another kiss, this time, on one of Jeff’s dimples. “I do feel the same way.” A third kiss, on the hinge of Jeff’s jaw. ”And I do expect something from you after tonight, so if you don’t expect something from me, I’m going to be really disappointed.” Kiss four, a whisper of lips at Jeff’s temple. “And you haven’t made things weird.” A fifth, final kiss lands in the middle of Jeff’s forehead. “Now say it again.”

“Say wh--oh!” Jeff lets out a laugh. “I love you, Eric Staal. I’m in love with you. Everything about you is awesome and you’re incredible and you make me so happy and I can’t believe that this is actually happening right now.” Jeff freezes and then jerks in Eric’s arms, smacked in the face with the realization that Eric said ‘I love you’ to him and didn’t take it back. “Wait. You said it back. You love me? Are you crazy?”

“Yes. And yes.” Eric runs his thumb along Jeff’s smile, which just makes Jeff smile bigger. “I mean, I went home for Christmas and you were all I could talk about, and my brothers gave me so much grief because you came up in like, every conversation. And I took it, let them give me shit, and did it gladly because I don't mind being stupid over you, Skins.”

Eric pauses and grows serious. Jeff rubs away the creases in Eric's forehead and then pokes Eric in the cheek, which drags a reluctant smile out of him.

“Jeff, I can’t promise you a single thing right now except that I do love you and want you. That’s not going to change in the morning, or next week, or even next month. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s what I can give you. I want an us, an ‘Eric and Jeff’, if you do."

Silence settles between them as Jeff absorbs Eric’s offer. Eric is a captain. He’s a leader. It’s his job to analyze things and think things out, and even after all of the analyzing and thinking, Eric still seems to think Jeff is worth the risk. He wants to try with Jeff. Eric Staal, captain of the Carolina Hurricanes, wants to be Jeff Skinner’s kinda-sorta-maybe boyfriend. Holy fucking shitballs.

“Holy shit,” answers Jeff. “Holy shit, Eric. I wanna be ‘Eric and Jeff’. Even if...even if ‘Eric and Jeff’ is just something that only we know about for now, I want it. We'll be us. We won’t be serious, we’ll be fun, and we’ll still get to play hockey. But with sex. Us, kissing and having sex and being amazing and playing hockey! It’s gonna be awesome.”

“ _We’re_ gonna be awesome,” Eric amends.

“Yeah.” Jeff gives Eric the biggest, brightest smile he can manage. “Yeah, we are.”

* * *

 

_ **Epilogue** _

_Raleigh, North Carolina_   
_January, 2014_

“Jeff, what are you watching?”

Jeff leans back on the sofa, his head hanging upside-down over the arm, and looks away from the TV to watch Eric wander into the living room instead. Eric is shirtless, wearing only a pair of low-slung red lounge pants, and he makes a much sexier picture than whatever commercial the NHL Network is currently offering up.

“‘m watching NHLN,” Jeff replies, motioning the disgustingly large television with one hand. It really should be obvious what he’s watching; the logo is emblazoned in the corner of the screen, and it’s one of three channels they ever watch. “The better question is, what are you doing up? Don’t make me give that speech about how rest and responsible activity will get you better quicker.”

“Save your speech for someone who didn't teach it to you when you were a rookie.” Eric approaches the arm of the sofa where Jeff is still dangling backwards and tangles his fingers in Jeff’s hair. “I woke up and you weren’t there, so I came to find you.”

“You found me.” Jeff grins and sits up on the couch. He rubs his socked foot against Eric’s calf as he walks by and when Eric sits down next to him, Jeff wastes no time in snuggling up against Eric’s warm, broad chest. He fits perfectly in Eric’s embrace and no matter how many times Eric holds him, Jeff can never quite get past the way they meld together, locking together like two puzzle pieces.

The program Jeff was watching before Eric came into the room pops back onto the screen, and Jeff jabs Eric insistently in the arm with the remote control. “Look, look! They’ve been showing All Star games all day and _look whose turn it is_!”

Jeff points at the TV just as TV-Eric approaches the podium to make his next draft pick. Real-life Eric makes a noise like he’s about to say something, but Jeff knows what’s coming next, so he elbows Eric in the gut.

**“It’d be weird not having him sit beside me, so we’re gonna go with, from the Carolina Hurricanes, Jeff Skinner.”**

“Look at you,” Jeff sighs. He grabs Eric’s hand and weaves their fingers together, then leans back to rest his head against Eric’s chest and keep watching. “No wonder I had a big fat crush on you, Eric. You were such a babe.”

“I _was_ such a babe?” Eric squawks, delivering a quick jab to Jeff’s stomach. “You still think I’m hot. You told me so last night, right before you came on my hot, captainly face.” Eric jabs Jeff again. “You, on the other hand, looked 11 years old. What was I thinking?”

Jeff laughs. He still wonders that himself sometimes. Some nights, when they’re tangled together in bed, Jeff thinks about how lucky he is to be building a life with Eric. It’s like something out of a cheap romance novel: Jeff fell hopelessly in love with his captain, and for some reason, his captain loved him right back. Their relationship isn’t easy, but for all of its fractures and frays, it’s _theirs_ , and it’s _good_ , and Jeff can’t imagine wanting anyone or anything like he still wants Eric Staal.

“You were thinking that I was awesome and you loved me,” he replies. “You still think that, by the way.”

Eric laughs and presses a kiss behind Jeff’s left ear, targeting the spot that makes Jeff’s whole body tremble with just one single touch.

“Yeah, I do,” Eric agrees. “You know, your All Star sweater is still hanging up in the walk-in closet…”

Jeff tips his face up to look at Eric, only to find Eric smirking back down at him and working his tongue at the corner of his mouth, just like he had on the night of the draft. Jeff closes the distance between their faces and pulls Eric’s rebellious tongue into his mouth, sucking on it eagerly the way he wanted to while he sat under the bright stage lights next to Carey Price three years ago.

The kiss breaks and Jeff nips at Eric’s bottom lip. “Want me to be your rookie again this morning, Eric? Hmm? Be your teenage dream?”

“I think I could agree to that,” says Eric, leaning in and drawing Jeff’s full bottom lip into his mouth.

Jeff opens his mouth for Eric, inviting him in, and they get lost in a tangle of lips and tongues and limbs while the draft plays on in the background. Eric paws at him with insistent hands and Jeff twists around, breaking the kiss in the process, to settle himself on Eric’s lap.

“Babe,” Eric sighs, his mouth dancing along the line of Jeff’s throat. His hands slide deftly under Jeff’s shirt, and Jeff allows Eric to yank it over his head before pressing their bare chests together. “God, Jeff. You were so beautiful under me that night. So sweet and responsive, and any time I touched you, you fell apart. Remember?”

Jeff nods and tilts his head to the side, giving more skin up for Eric’s mouth. He twists his fingers in Eric’s honey-blond hair and tugs, inviting Eric to mar his throat with little nips that are sure to bruise and linger on while Jeff’s on the road without him.

“I remember,” Jeff says. How could he forget? He could be a million years old and remember every single second of his first night with Eric. “Three times that night, Eric. _Three times_. No wonder we lost the game. We were too loved up to focus. And I could hardly walk. But, you know, still. Too loved up."

Eric delivers a rather sharp bite to the curve of Jeff’s neck where throat meets shoulder and Jeff’s whole body bucks in response. Eric laps at the bite mark, lathing the broken skin that’s sure to bruise, and Jeff rolls his hips and grinds against Eric in response.

“‘m still too loved up by you, Skins, and it’s been three years,” Eric says, his large hands seeking and finding Jeff’s ass. “I think it’s way too late to stop now, sweetheart.”

It’s sappy and cheesy but it _does things_ to Jeff. Knowing how much Eric still loves him, still wants him, even after the shine of newness is long worn off, makes Jeff harder than a fucking rock.

“Eric,” Jeff sighs, rubbing helplessly against Eric, rutting against the hard curve of Eric’s cock. “Please. Let’s go to the bedroom, I don’t wanna do this on the couch.”

Eric squeezes Jeff’s ass, digging his fingers in in such a way that Jeff will bear the bruises for days to come. “Up up. Let’s go. Get changed and by the time you’re ready, I’ll be back there.”

Jeff can’t resist Eric’s mouth, so he presses a final kiss into it before he lifts himself up from Eric’s lap and climbs over the back of the couch.

“Show-off,” grumbles Eric. Whether he’s bemoaning his knee or his age--he’s almost thirty now and Jeff won’t let him forget it--Jeff isn’t sure. “Although, I do like that you’re limber, Skins.”

“I think we both like that I can put my foot behind my head, Eric. At least, we both liked it plenty on Christmas at your parent’s house,” laughs Jeff as he wanders out of the room.

He makes an abrupt right turn and goes upstairs to the master bedroom to fetch his old All-Star sweater from the walk-in closet. Once he pulls the sweater over his head, he heads back downstairs to the guest room that they’ve been staying in while Eric’s struggled with his knee injury. 

By the time he shucks his pants and boxers and spreads out on the big guest bed, Eric is there, leaning in the doorway and rubbing his cock through his sweats.

Jeff rolls on his side and looks at Eric through his eyelashes, fixing him with what he hopes is an innocent face. He bites down on his lip and twists one hand in the hem of his sweater, overplaying the innocent act for their shared enjoyment. “Hi, captain.”

“Hi.”

Eric grins and yanks on the drawstring of his sweats, making the fabric pool a bit around his ankles with every step he takes toward the bed. Jeff watches his lover stretch out on the bed and then he pounces, straddling Eric’s narrow hips and rubbing his ass against Eric’s thick erection, all while being extra careful to avoid Eric's knee.

“God, you look good in that,” Eric sighs, tugging on the hem of Jeff’s sweater. “You look good in what’s mine, babe.”

Jeff blushes and slips his hand into Eric’s sweats. When he finds Eric bare, without any underwear to speak of, he arches his eyebrows. “It’s like you had this planned, Eric Staal.”

“Why bother wearing underwear when we’re both home and I can get you on my dick whenever I want?” Eric purrs, reaching around to manhandle Jeff’s ass with both hands. He slips a finger between Jeff’s cheeks and hooks his fingertip against the rim of Jeff’s entrance, where he’s still stretched and slippery with come and lube from the night before. “Fucking _fuck_ , Jeff. I’m not the only one who was planning things. I was proud of my plan until you came along and out-planned me. Holy god, you're filthy.”

Jeff just laughs and pushes down on Eric’s finger, sliding down until Eric’s buried inside him to the knuckle. It’s a nice feeling, but not exactly pleasurable, not when he’s still so open and ready from the night before.

“Want it quick and rough?” Eric asks, his mouth returning to Jeff’s neck to add a few more splashes of color to the purple-and-red mosaic that runs from Jeff’s left ear down to his collarbone and is two days in the making. He  pushes two more fingers inside Jeff, the width and girth of them finally filling him up a bit, and Jeff nods. “Yeah, ‘s what I thought. You’re still so good for me. Look at you, wet with my come and still ready for more.”

Jeff grins and rides Eric’s fingers for a few moments, enjoying the way pleasure sparks and pops all over his skin and begins to soften his insides. When he lifts up, Eric pulls his fingers away and is quick to put the sticky head of his cock in their place. The head of Eric’s cock spreads Jeff open and Jeff gasps; the initial feeling of Eric pushing into him still steals his breath away. He spreads his hands across Eric’s bare chest and eases down, sliding along Eric’s dick until his captain is buried to the hilt.

“Yes, Eric,” Jeff sighs, his hips quick to pick a fast, punched-out rhythm that suits them both. It doesn't matter how many times they do this, it never gets old, it only gets _better_. Jeff only loves it more, only loves Eric more. It's as close to perfect as anything can be.

Eric digs his fingers into Jeff’s hips and Jeff grinds down, riding Eric as Eric rocks up gently to meet him. When one of Eric’s strong, rough hands winds around his cock, Jeff keens and tips his head back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Eric chants, driving into Jeff with quick, deep thrusts. The combination of Eric’s cock and his hand pushes Jeff closer and closer to the edge, and he gets sloppy with the way he rides Eric, gasping and panting as his hips slip and slide against Eric’s waist. “Let it go, Jeff. Let it go.”

Jeff curls his hand against Eric’s slippery chest and slams himself down once, twice, three times, pushing the head of Eric’s cock against his prostate, and then finally comes. He paints two short stripes across Eric’s belly with a choked cry and Eric wastes no time in pushing a come-slick finger into Jeff’s open mouth. Jeff fixes his eyes on Eric, blown away by how dark and hungry his gaze is when he’s inside Jeff this way, and sucks on the finger that thrusts into his mouth.

He's wrung out and breathless, but he bears down and tightens himself around Eric anyway, knowing it's what Eric needs to get off. It's enough to pull a rough, pained moan from low in Eric’s throat. Eric chokes out Jeff’s name and then he’s coming, pushing his load hot and hard into Jeff’s belly.

A few minutes tick by and then Jeff leans forward with Eric still inside him, seeking the warmth and comfort of Eric’s body against his own. Eric slings an arm low across Jeff’s back and pulls a bedsheet over their tacky bodies with his free hand.

“Jeff?” Eric asks, his voice a burr against Jeff’s ear.

“Eric?” Jeff replies, speaking against the hard curve of Eric’s collarbone.

Eric runs his hand along Jeff’s back. “I want you to marry me. Also, I think we just got come all over your sweater.”

Jeff sits up abruptly, smearing semen all over his sweater and making the bedsheet drop down over them like a tent. He looks down at Eric, who’s lying beneath him like a ridiculous blond Nordic god, and then does the only thing he can think of. He punches Eric in the chest.

“Did you just propose to me?!” squawks Jeff, his fingers quick to rub and soothe the reddened mark he’s just made on Eric’s chest.

Eric licks the corner of his mouth and fixes Jeff with a grin. “Yeah. I did. Do you want to marry me?”

Jeff just stares down at him. He’s wanted nothing else but to belong to Eric Staal since he was eighteen years old. Marrying Eric is something that’s lingered at the edge of his mind for a while now, but it's a thought that Jeff has never given too much thought to because he wanted to wait until they were both ready.

They’re both ready now, it seems.

“Jeff?” asks Eric, concern coloring his voice. He covers Jeff’s hands with his own and works his fingers between Jeff’s fingers. “Do you want to marry me, Jeff?”

“Yes.” Jeff turns his hand a bit in Eric’s hold, threading their fingers together more tightly. He eases his body down and pitches himself forward so that he can look down into Eric’s face. “I want to marry you, Eric. Not today or tomorrow, but...when we’re ready.”

Eric grins, and it’s golden and beautiful and all for Jeff. “So...maybe Thursday? Is Thursday good for you?” Jeff laughs, and Eric silences him with a kiss before echoing something he said years before, in a position very much like the one they’re in now. “We’re gonna be awesome.”

“No,” Jeff disagrees, shaking his head. He returns Eric’s kiss, soft and slow and sweet, and then draws back to meet Eric’s eyes. “No, Eric. We already are.”

And they lived happily ever after.


End file.
